


move over, baby, gimme the keys (i'm gonna try to tame your little red love machine)

by honeycombkiss



Series: waited just to love you [8]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, Losers Club banter and other shenanigans, M/M, Richie gets a car for his sixteenth birthday, Teenage Losers Club (IT), a great mix of reddie banter and flirting and bickering, aged up characters (15/16 years old), although nobody moves away or forgets because thats bullshit, and then chaos ensues, post It (2017), reddie are established and adorable, sophomore year of high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycombkiss/pseuds/honeycombkiss
Summary: Richie had been eager to take his new car for drives out past Derry city limits. Out where they could blare music as loudly as the stereo would allow, screaming lyrics, holding hands and making out. He wanted to drive Eddie out where no one could see them, lay him out in his backseat and spend the evening just like that./Or: Richie gets a car for his sweet sixteenth birthday. This means big things for Richie, Eddie and the other Losers; things like car races, jam sessions, drive-in movies, driving lessons and late night trips to get fast food.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: waited just to love you [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515326
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	move over, baby, gimme the keys (i'm gonna try to tame your little red love machine)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happens in March of 1992, during the last half of their Sophomore year of high school.
> 
> Big thanks to my fiancé for always helping me keep up with my goals. I basically write these for you, my dear.
> 
> And a loving shoutout to my sister for being an enthusiastic and supportive reader. Each Stan mention goes out to you, homegirl.
> 
> Working title was ‘let me drive my van into your heart’. Felt like sharing that. Which is also, disclaimer, some of the car race dialogue comes from 'Beach City Drift'

Richie’s car—his baby, his _Staci_ —came into his life on a blustery late March afternoon. Although his sixteenth birthday was nearly a month ago, a car had finally been chosen and paid for.

The used car lot had been full of both beautiful and truly destroyed cars. The Tozier’s weekends had been full of walking up and down the rows of used cars, Went commenting on the quality of the cars while Maggie grumbled something about, _“That son of a bitch wants way more than that little shit is worth!”_

(And people wondered why Richie had a Trashmouth?!)

One sunny afternoon, the sunlight had glimmered across _his car_ and he’d just _known_. It was a little 1990 red Nissan maxima, in near perfect condition. There were scratches on the hubcaps, and a bit of weathering on the top, but otherwise in excellent condition.

“That’s a bit loud, Richie,” Wentworth had critiqued, squinting at the vibrant red paint. “You know what they say about driving a red car, and how it’s a target. Especially with your led foot.”

“And that’s a bit more than we want to pay, Richie,” Maggie had added. She’d looked around the car lot again, face scrunched up against the sunshine and disappointment. “I don’t see anything that’s going to work.”

“We’ll have to try again next weekend, Rich. This place gets new cars pretty often.”

So, it’d been a complete surprise when Went and Maggie came riding up to the house the next Sunday evening in the vehicle of his used-car dreams.

And so, although on his sixteenth birthday Richie had unwrapped a paper cut into the shape of a key, _car coming soon_ written in Maggie’s looping scrawl on the paper, his present was finally home.

He had big plans.

X

The next Morning, Richie had driven to school and promised the Losers a surprise. When the last bell rang at 2:30 pm, the lucky seven raced out to the parking lot, guesses of what they’d find on the tip of their tongues. Now, the Losers stood around Richie’s new-to-him car in the parking lot at Derry High. He’d parked beside Mike’s beat-up pick-up truck.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Richie sighed happily, resting a hip against the car. He pulled his curls away from his face and smiled at his friends. “She’s a late sixteenth birthday gift.”

“It’s just a car,” Eddie said, though there was a glint of _something_ in his eyes that excited Richie. Maybe Eddie knew just how important this could become, too.

“I think it’s great,” Ben said, looking it up and down.

“Cars can’t be beautiful,” Stan added. “They’re useful, not beautiful. And furthermore, if they could be beautiful, this wouldn’t be it.” Beverly and Bill made chocked sounds of laughter.

“ _Damn_ ,” Richie winced. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Buh-b-beautiful m-might not be the ruh-right wuh-word,” Bill agreed. “But she’s _suh-something_ ,”

“She needs a name,” Richie said. “That’s where you Losers come in. May the best name win,”

“This is ridiculous. Just name it the Tozier Mobile and move on,” Stan crossed his arms. “Does it smell inside?”

“Um okay, rude!” Richie pointed a finger at Stan and gave a fake pout. “And also, all in favor of Tozier Mobile raise your hand!”

Richie surveyed the Losers, and while nobody raised their hand, it didn’t appear that everyone was even paying attention.

“Sorry, Stanley, looks like you’re not todays winner,”

“Car salesman voice?” Mike asked, and Richie nodded.

“What about you, Mikey, any ideas?”

“Wuh-wuh-what ab-bout Little Red?” Bill suggested, slurring at the _L_ , when Mike struggled to offer anything.

“Hey! That’s my name!” Beverly smacked Bill’s upper arm lightly.

“Hah!” Richie exclaimed. “So you _do_ like my nickname!”

“You have no proof,” Beverly deadpanned.

“Eds?” Richie turned to his boyfriend who was slowly walking the perimeter of the car. He nearly had his little nose pushed up against the glass as he peered in. “Name idea?”

“I’m not helping you name your dumb car,”

Richie gasped. “Don’t talk about Veronica that way!”

“Veronica?” Mike asked.

“Th-that’s not right,” Bill shook his head. “It doesn’t wuh-work.”

“You’re right,” Richie nodded.

“Isn’t that like a really straight guy thing to do, name your car?” Beverly asked, following Eddie’s lead to peer into the car.

“Well, I am half straight, Snailverly,”

“One, don’t ever call me that again,” Beverly propped up her pointer finger, and then her middle as she said, “Two, that’s not what bisexual means.”

“Kinda,” Richie shrugged.

“With that logic, you can only do half straight things,” Stan said. “So is this going to be one of them?”

“I fucking guess so,” Richie sighed. “It’s getting to be a bit stressful, especially with no fucking help!”

“You’re insane,” Stan looked to Ben who was standing beside him. “Right, Ben?”

Ben looked between Stan and Richie, before he just laughed. “That’s kind of Richie’s brand.”

Richie cheered. “I win!”

“It wasn’t a competition!” Stan disagreed, mild anguish in his voice. “And insanity isn’t a cool brand!”

“I’m wondering,” Mike spoke up. “if Richie’s logic really implies that he can only do straight things halfway. So can he only give his car half a name?”

“How do you give something half a name?” Beverly asked.

“It huh-has to b-be a p-persons name,” Bill suggested.

“So no _sex machine_?” Richie asked, throwing a look at Eddie. Eddie huffed.

“I’m not having sex with you in this car, Richie.”

“ _Sure,_ ” Richie elongated the word, smirking at Eddie.

“You’ll see,” Eddie shrugged.

“I can’t _wait_ to see you, Eds,”

“That’s _not_ what I meant!”

“You kind of implied it,”

“No, I didn’t. I said-”

“Muh-maybe a g-girls name?” Bill cut the couple off. “Muh-maybe Ruh-richie w-was onto someth-thing with _Veronica_.”

“Ooh, good idea, Big Bill,” Richie nodded. “Then Eds can tell ole Mrs. K that he’s going to hang out inside _Rachel_ , and she won’t suspect any gay shenanigans.”

Eddie’s face screwed up in a look of annoyance. “She doesn’t want me involved in _any_ shenanigans!”

“Hah! So there will be shenanigans in my sex machine!”

“How about _Stacey_?” Beverly nearly shouted, trying to be heard over the others.

“Snailverly Snarsh!” Richie snapped his fingers. “That’s perfect!”

“What do I win?”

“My eternal gratitude,”

“How are you spelling the name?” Mike asked.

“S-T-A-C-E-Y,” Beverly spelled, and Richie clucked.

“No, not even. It’s gotta be kinda flirty, y’know? Like S-T-A-C-I,”

“How in the fuck does spelling make a name _flirty_?” Stan asked, bewilderment in his voice.

“It’s something about that lone _i,_ ” Richie shrugged. “I can’t explain it.”

“She looks like a _Staci_ ,” Mike complimented, running a hand across the hood. “I can teach you how to change her oil and stuff, too, if you want,”

“Mikey, you are a dream boat,”

X

Eddie had a wistful look in his eyes—one that he usually gave when they had to pull away from one another, or when Bill ate the last cookie, or Richie had to slip out of his bedroom window for the night. Richie followed his gaze but was unable to identify what he might’ve been staring at. His gaze ended on _Staci’s_ steering wheel. Just through the window was the Tozier’s front yard—did he want to wrestle around in the grass? They hadn’t done that in years, but Richie was always up to try again. Although his limbs were a bit longer than they had been last time.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Richie asked, poking at Eddie’s side.

“I’m not wearing panties,” Eddie leveled Richie with a _look_. Though it wasn’t the normal upset-but-still-in-love look. There was something more laced in it. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you, Rich?”

Richie guffawed, eyes widening. “Um, yeah, kinda. That’d be fucking hot, Spagheds,”

“You ruin it with that dumb fucking nickname,” Eddie grumbled, though there was a pink flush to his cheeks that gave him away. “You can’t be serious and use that godawful nickname, Richie.”

“Sure I can, Eds,” Richie cooed, walking towards him.

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause I don’t have a pair of panties so,” he shrugged, allowing Richie to wrap his arms around Eddie’s middle.

“I bet we could figure something out,”

“Yeah okay,” Eddie gave a little laugh of disbelief. “I’ll wear a pair if you do,”

“Anything for you, baby,” Richie purred in his ear, setting his chin against Eddie’s shoulder so his lips were touching Eddie’s ear. “We can get a matching set,”

“Hmm,” Eddie’s voice came out high, the sound going right to Richie’s dick. “Sounds impossible, but whatever you say, moron,”

“God, love when you call me names,” Richie gave an exaggerated moan, biting at the shell of Eddie’s ear as he did so. “Makes me so wet when you call me a moron, Eds,”

Eddie giggled, though he did attempt to shove Richie away. “God, you’re the worst,”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Richie pressed, still wrapped around his boyfriend. “What’s got you giving the air sex eyes.”

Eddie jabbed him with an elbow. “I do not have _sex eyes_.”

“Hate to break it to you, baby, but you do,” Richie smiled. “You do, and it’s fucking hot.”

“Whatever,” Eddie wiggled in Richie’s grasp; just to be annoying, not enough to actually pull away.

“Dear Lord,” Richie bowed his head, pretending to pray. “Please use thine godly powers to convince my gorgeous, sex-god boyfriend,” Eddie made a sound of indignation, “to share what is on his beautiful mind. Amen.”

Eddie sighed, though it sounded a lot like a soft laugh. He pulled away from Richie, walking around the car again. “I was just thinking about driving your car, you idiot.”

“Ooh,” Richie jumped in excitement. “You wanna take _Staci_ for a spin?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But I don’t know how,”

“Here, Spaghetti, I’ll teach you,”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “That’s hilarious.”

“I’m serious!” Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hand, tugging him to the driver’s side. “Just one ride around the block! Come on, ole chap, pip pip! Get in there,”

“Does the British guy have a career in drivers’ education?”

“Ah yes,” Richie carried on in his voice. “And divers’ education. Oh! And also, diners education.”

“What the hell is diner’s education?”

“Ever wanted to open your own bloody unique diner? Come to British Richie’s school of education!”

“School of education? Aren’t all schools for education?”

“Pip pip, Mr. K! Too many questions!”

The pair fumbled to climb into the car, sliding into their respective seats. Eddie shoved the key into the ignition switch.

“Uh, Rich?” Eddie laid back against the seat, slowly sinking forward.

“Where ya going, Spagheds?”

“To find the pedals,” Eddie whined. “I can’t reach.”

“Awh, Eds!” Richie cooed, a deliriously-happy sounding giggle falling from his lips. And while he was supposed to be speaking in part of a Voice, the giggle kind of ruined it. “Aren’t you so cute, cute, _cute,_ and so teeny, tiny!”

“Shut _up_!” Eddie groaned, ducking his face behind his hands.

“We gotta find the little lever for my little boyfriend so his little legs can reach,” Richie teased with a smile, leaning into Eddie’s space. He couldn’t see, as he felt around for the seat adjusting lever. From his position, his face was pressed closely against Eddie’s side. Richie bit lightly, and Eddie squirmed away with a laugh.

“I found it!” Richie yelled in triumph. “Sit up, so you don’t get squished.”

Eddie slid up, and Richie tugged the seat farther.

“Yuh feelin’ ready, Mr. K?”

“I’ve only been sitting here waiting,” was Eddie’s reply.

“Sassy, I like it,” Richie leaned over to lick a stripe up Eddie’s cheek. He shuddered, but he didn’t push him away. “Basically, there are two, uh, buttons? No, levers?” Richie thought for a second. “Oh fuck, I mean pedals. There are two pedals. The one on the right is the gas, the one on the left is the brake.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded. “Isn’t there something about having your hands at like nine and ten?”

“Oh,” Richie paused, mind running through the many lessons his parents had given him, and also the drivers education classes he’d taken. “Yeah, so it’s ten and two, which is like where those spots are on a clock face.”

Eddie nodded, face completely serious. “What now?”

“Just shift the car into gear and push the gas,” Richie instructed.

“Okay, those are literally just meaningless words to me, Rich.” Eddie turned to glare at Richie. “Remember? My mom wouldn’t let me take any of those driving classes. She said she could teach me better, and then didn’t teach me a fucking thing.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Richie gestured at the gear shift that sat between them. “Just pull the gear shift forward until it’s on _D_ for dick,”

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, it’s for drive, but it could be dick, too.”

Eddie ignored Richie in favor of tugging with all of his might, though it didn’t budge.

“Uh,” Eddie looked from the gear shift to Richie. “What the fuck?”

“I have no idea,” Richie looked down in confusion. “I hope to fuck _Staci’s_ not busted.”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Yeah, chill,” Richie nodded. “She’s just fucked up for some reason. Try again.”

Eddie pressed on the gear shift again, pulling it towards him. Although it didn’t move once again.

“Well shit,” Richie ran a hand through his sloppy curls. “I guess we’re not going anywhere. Hopefully Mike can come work his dark magic. Blow his dust, if you know what I mean,”

“Richie, that’s horrible and disgusting and you better not be thinking of Mike like that!”

“It’s a fucking joke, Eds! And it’s not for me! _Staci_ needs him!”

Eddie thumped back into his seat.

“I mean, maybe it’s something simple,” Richie catapulted into a Voice; a mechanic with a history of smoking. “The cars on, the engines runnin’, you pressed down on the brake-”

“No I didn’t,” Eddie cut Richie off. “You didn’t tell me to push down on the brake!”

Richie broke into laughter; he couldn’t help it. At the look of concerned bewilderment on Eddie’s face, and the sheer absurdity of the situation Richie felt the laughter down in his lower belly. It was warm in his chest.

“What the actual fuck, Richie?!” Eddie exclaimed, turning to face Richie. “You’re supposed to push the fucking brake, and you just forget to mention that?!”

Richie clutched at his stomach, laughter still falling from his lips. “Yeah, I guess so,”

Eddie harrumphed.

“This time press on the brake while you pull on the gear shift,” Richie amended, laughing as he spoke.

Eddie followed instructions, and the car lurched forward, rolling towards the Tozier mailbox. Richie waited a moment, but when Eddie didn’t press on the brake after a moment and then two, Richie’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Uh, Eds,” his voice came out a tad panicky. “Eds, baby, press the brake!”

At what seemed to be the last possible second, Eddie’s foot slammed down on the brake pedal. Richie flew forward, his lack of seatbelt allowing his body to hit against the dashboard.

“I couldn’t find the brake!” Eddie exclaimed. “I hate this fucking car!” Eddie aggressively shoved the gear shift into park.

“Don’t talk about _Staci_ like that!” Richie yelled back.

“I’m not fucking calling it _Staci_!”

“Don’t hurt her feelings, Eds!”

“She’s a fucking _car_ , Richie! It doesn’t have any fucking feelings!”

“Don’t let her hear you say that!”

Eddie flung open the driver’s door and climbed out of the car.

“Where are you going?!” Richie asked, frantically getting out as well.

“I’m not driving anymore. You are a horrible teacher. I’ll have Mike teach me.” Eddie walked around the front of the car, lifted a fist as if to punch the hood of the car, though he only swung at it obnoxiously.

(Not at _all_ adorably.)

Richie went around the driver’s side, planning to pull it back into its spot. He flung his leg in as he always did, but was unable to get in. He just needed to pull the car back into his spot, but he couldn’t contort his body to fit. His seat was Eddie-size now, and his long limbs would not fold up enough to fit.

He could hear Eddie’s tentative cackle of laughter from outside, so it was all kind of worth it.

X

Eddie was pouting. As they sat and ate, Eddie glared down at his plate as if it’d personally offended him.

“Eddie, is something wrong?” Maggie asked gently once she finally sits down. After Went had served dinner, Maggie had flitted around the kitchen preparing both herself and Went a glass of wine. Richie kind of wanted to roll his eyes—it was a Wednesday evening—but refrained himself.

“Oh it’s nothing,” Eddie brushed her off, not glancing up from his plate. “Just that I’ll never learn to drive. I’ll probably be a forty-year-old who still can’t drive because his mother is fucking psycho!” He clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” his cheeks were flushing.

“I appreciate the conscientiousness, Eddie,” Maggie laughed. “But I’m kind of over reminding you two not to cuss. After Richie robbed the swear jar last summer, I’ve just had to accept that my son is a delinquent.”

“They’re words, Maggie!” Richie defended. “Words that _you_ use!”

“And what’s this about never driving?” Went asked Eddie, ignoring Richie.

“Richie is the worst-”

“Richie did his best!” Richie interjected.

“Richie is an idiot!” Eddie countered.

“What did Richie do this time?” Went asked, glancing between the couple.

“I tried to teach dear old Spagheds how to drive this afternoon. He nearly crashed into our mailbox and he’s blaming my teaching skills!”

“You claimed you could teach me!”

“Maybe you’re unteachable!”

Eddie crossed his arms against his chest, looking on the verge of either screaming or crying. Richie strongly hoped neither of those things would happen. Luckily, Went cut in.

“I can teach you, Eddie,” Went offered, taking a bite of his steak. “It’s really not so hard,” Wentworth’s voice was gentle. “You’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly. You’ll see,”

That night, after a driving less and Eddie had gone home and Richie had snuck into his bedroom, the couple lay in bed together.

“I like driving,” Eddie whispered in the dark. “Like a lot. I’ve always been interested in cars, but this is the first time I’ve really got to,” Eddie trailed off.

“You were a natural, Eds,” Richie assured him quietly.

“I want Mike to teach me to care for your car,” Eddie whispered again.

“ _Staci_ , Eds,” Richie corrected. “And that’d be super-hot and amazing.”

“It’s dumb and weird and stupid, Richie. I’m not calling the fucking car _Staci_ ,” Eddie poked out his lower lip.

“Don’t you do that!” Richie stuck his tongue out to lick at Eddie’s lip. “You’re gonna kill me.”

X

Mostly, Richie had been eager to go for drives out past Derry city limits. Out where they could blare music as loudly as the stereo would allow, screaming lyrics, holding hands and making out. He wanted to drive Eddie out where no one could see them, lay him out in his backseat and spend the evening just like that.

That particular night, the pair had made out in the back of the car and on the drive back into town, Eddie fiddled with the radio until a familiar song began to play.

“Fuck yeah!” Richie exclaimed, already beginning to make obnoxious sounds that approximated the synth of _Take On Me_. There was also heavy head bobbing to the beat of the drums, to which Eddie joined in on. Together, they did a combination of a scream and a hum,

“Dun-na-na-na duh duh duh dun-na!” Over and over until Richie obnoxiously cleared his throat and growled,

“ _Sloppin’ away, though I don’t know who I’m to pay, I’ll lay here anyway,”_ the added syllable caused for a stumble of words, though it was worth it when Eddie’s melodious giggles filled the car.

“Stop!” he exclaimed.

“ _Hopin’ for another day to fight ya,”_ Richie slurred the words, hoping to sound as ridiculous as possible. Eddie seemed to agree, as he continued to giggle, singing the words correctly loudly and firmly.

“ _Flyin’ away,_ ” Richie continued. _“I’ll be fartin’ for your love, okay?_ ”

At the first chorus, the pair screamed the lyrics together correctly. There was a glint in Eddie’s eyes, as he watched Richie’s lips. Whether to catch him in another mix up, or just hoping that Richie would mess up again, Eddie’s full attention was on Richie.

As the song progressed, Richie’s replacements got more childish, though Eddie’s sheepish giggles had turned into full belly laughter.

During the instrumental, Richie played each instrument with his face. Or, that’s what he attempted to. Or, that’s what it looked like he was doing in his head. The piano keys get thumped by his nose. The guitar cords are strummed with his chin. And his lips continued to scream-hum the beat.

As the song came to an end, Eddie was clutching at his stomach, his entire body alight with happiness. And while Richie always aimed for Eddie’s happiness, he hadn’t even meant to this time. He hadn’t realized that fucking up the lyrics to a classic song was enough to break Eddie’s resolve.

Eddie had a happy little smile on his face. After a beat, he leaned across the distance between them to place a sloppy, wet kiss at Richie’s jawline.

X

A group sleepover at Hanlon farm was on the agenda for that particular Saturday night. Mike’s large bedroom took up most of the second floor of the ancient farmhouse, leaving plenty of room for the Losers. And since the house was so old, its central heating was shit. Mike had an entire closet full of sleeping bags and blankets to keep warm in the cold months. Which meant that sleepovers in warm months had plenty of blankets to accommodate everyone.

After a movie at the Aladdin, the Losers approached the parking lot. Eddie slipped past the others and climbed into the passenger seat of Richie’s car. Just as he went to pull the door shut, Ben appeared.

“Hey!” Ben’s face scrunched up into a frown. “Eddie, I called shotgun!”

“So?” Eddie gave Ben a look.

“So, I called shotgun way back there!” Ben pointed behind his shoulder. “I called it before we got to _Staci_ , so I get shotgun. Those are the rules!”

Eddie just shook his head. “You really thought I wouldn’t get shotgun in my boyfriend’s car?!”

“What?! Richie?” Ben turned to Richie, who gave a shrug and a sympathetic look.

“It’s true,” Richie hummed. “You fuck the driver, you get shotgun.”

Eddie made a noise while Ben and the others groaned.

“Gruh-gross,” Bill winced.

“That’s just step one,” Richie continued as if nobody had responded. “Step two is being so fucking adorable, my heart gets a boner.”

“Okay, that was worse to hear,” Ben closed his eyes.

“A h-heart b-boner?”

“Yeah, ever had one, Billiam? Like when your heart is so touched and full and it just,” Richie made a popping sound with his mouth, followed by a groan.

“Stop it!” Eddie whined.

“That was kind of obscene,” Ben agreed.

“Richie, stop you’re going to break them,” Beverly teased, leaning against _Staci_. She reached into her back pocket to pull out a cigarette and her lighter. “That movie was a tad too long in my _humble_ opinion.” She hummed, lighting her cigarette. She offered one to Richie, and he took one easily. He heard Eddie’s cluck of annoyance, but it sounded more out of obligation to keep up his façade than anything else. They weren’t sleeping in either of their beds alone that night, so Richie was free.

Richie allowed Bev to light up his cigarette, quickly pulling two puffs.

“I have an idea,” Beverly said around a pull of her cigarette. There was an excited glint in her idea.

“I love that look, Marsh!” Richie exclaimed.

“Let’s race up the hill to Hanlon farm!” She suggested, a delighted smirk on her face. As soon as the idea hit, Richie was nearly giddy with it. It was time to show what _Staci_ could do.

“Fuck yes!” Richie exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Bill agreed, pumping a fist.

“Okay,” Mike nodded.

“Are you two insane?!” Eddie looked between the pair. “Um, do you two have any idea of all the risks involved in a car race? What about a concussion? Have you heard of a concussion, Richie?”

“I always feel concussed when I’m with you, baby,” Richie cooed.

“What the fuck?” Eddie shook his head. “I’m being serious!”

“The start is at the base of the hill,” Mike instructed, ignoring Eddie. “We’ll go when the clock strikes the hour. First one to the top wins.”

“You don’t have to worry about that last part,” Richie taunted.

“Whose riding with who?” Ben asked, glancing between Mike and Richie.

“Well do you want to be in the winning or losing car, Benny-boo?” Richie jeered, eyes still on Mike.

“I’m going with Mike,” Stan spoke up, taking steps towards Mike’s truck. “Because I want to both win and survive.”

“I’ve got room for one more,” Mike turned to the Losers.

“Cuh-c-count me in,” Bill fidgeted with the ends of his hair, a smile growing on his features.

“That means you other three are on the winning team,” Richie gestured to Ben and Beverly who weren’t already in the car. “Climb in, it’s almost the hour.”

The two red vehicles cruised across town and towards the base of the hill. At the starting line, Richie glanced at the digital clock on his car’s dashboard. Three red numbers illuminated the screen, displaying ten fifty-four. Six minutes, and they’d be racing up the hill.

The minutes quickly turned into seconds, and as tenth hour faded into eleven, Mike revved his engine and zoomed off. Richie was a millisecond behind, cruising into the dust Mike left behind. They bumped along the two-lane dirt road that led up to the Hanlon farm. The other Hanlon family members and friendly farmers had long since turned in for the night, leaving the Losers unrestricted access to the old hill road.

Richie blinked, and the landscape changed. No longer were they accelerating into the darkness but twisting around bends up the hill. The Hanlon’s hill was full of winding stretches of road and sharp turns. Until suddenly, it wasn’t. In the end, the two-lane dirt road stretched out into a straight shot.

“If we get behind,” Richie told his teammates. “We can make up for it on that last stretch.”

“Please don’t go flying around these bends,” Ben piped up. “This car wasn’t made for those kinds of turns.”

“See, Richie?!” Eddie chided. “It’s not just me!”

“I hear you! I’m following Mike’s lead! He’s ahead of us but not for long.”

Richie slid around a turn, squinting his eyes and holding his breath as they flung around the bend. It was exhilarating, his breath caught in his throat.

They could see shooting stars from their place way out in farmland. Although he refused to get distracted, in his periphery, Richie could see the glitter of the stars millions of lightyears away. They danced and sparkled, and Richie wanted to see them reflect in Eddie’s eyes. He wanted to see it at the finish line, though, so he pushed his foot down farther onto the gas, rolling along the dirt path.

Richie listened as Beverly cranked her window down. Richie reached over to spin the radio volume dial until it was a soft hum, the sounds of the night taking over. There was the obvious rumble and roar of the two vehicles, but there were also crickets and frogs and the wind rustling through the tall farm grass. It was all kinds of beautiful, Richie thought, but he didn’t linger on it. Instead he continued to speed along.

As the road finally straightened out, Richie turned the wheel a fraction until he was driving right beside Mike’s pickup, no longer right behind it. Richie whooped in excitement, and he could hear the cheers coming from Eddie, Ben and Bev.

“Faster!” Beverly yelled, leaning forward in her seat until her head was between Richie and Eddie’s. Glee was painted across her face, giddiness in her voice.

Somehow, the two cars pulled up the Hanlon farm fence in a photo finish. He knew they could argue for hours—could feel the argument bubbling up in his chest, the trash-talk at the tip of his tongue—but there would be no way of ever really knowing who won.

X

From his spot in the Derry High parking lot, Richie watched Eddie approach, his arms wrapped around a couple of textbooks. Richie had left his last class early, and now Eddie was just finally catching up. Richie already had the car running, music shaking the car. Eddie had a small smile on his face, one that he was obviously trying to mask with an eye roll of feigned annoyance.

“Fuck, Richie!” Eddie yelled, throwing open the passenger side door. “They can hear your music in New York!”

“Lucky them!” Richie yelled back.

Eddie went to put a foot in the car, although his leg froze midair. And he just sat there for a minute, perfectly still. “What the fuck, Richie?” Eddie finally spoke up, sounding more like a statement than a question.

“What now?” Richie asked, reaching over to grab Eddie’s thigh and tug it down. Richie yanked at Eddie’s leg, and he came fumbling down. Eddie shrieked.

“What the fuck?!”

“What is your problem?”

“This is fucking disgusting, Richie!”

“What are you talking about?”

“How did this even happen?” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. Richie glanced around in surprise. He hadn’t noticed, if he was being honest. Sure, the car was kind of full of garbage. But it wasn’t horrible, was it?

“What?” Richie asked, looking from Eddie’s gaze up to his face.

“This is fucking disgusting, Richie.” Eddie repeated. “I swear to god it didn’t look like this on Friday.”

Eddie hadn’t been in Richie’s car since he was driven home Friday afternoon. Sure, they’d spent the weekend together, but it was because Richie snuck into his room. And Sunday’s were days Eddie couldn’t get away from his mother anyway.

Slowly, Eddie backed away from Richie and the car. He gave a pathetic little wave, before he skipped away and slipped into the crowd. Richie lost sight of him. Quickly, he slipped out of his car and stood onto his tiptoes. It was a lot of flipping his head back and forth, hoping to catch sight of Eddie’s baby blue backpack.

“Aha!” Richie cheered in triumphant, finally catching sight of Eddie as he exited the parking lot and started heading towards the clubhouse; as they’d all agreed to meet there after school.

Richie slid back into his car, and pulled out of his stall in record speed. It was a waiting game in the parking lot, trying to dodge students who didn’t look before they backed out, and others who ran into the parking lot with reckless abandon, leaving their life up to fate. Finally, though, Richie was onto the road, catching up to Eddie almost immediately.

Eddie walked on the sidewalk, and so Richie leaned over to crank down the passenger side window.

“Spaghetti Head!” Richie yelled. “Spaghetti! Hey, it’s me and _Staci_ and we miss you!”

“If you really loved _Staci_ you wouldn’t let the losers thrash her!” Eddie yelled back, refusing to even look up. “And if you miss me, maybe you’ll learn your lesson and clean your fucking car! I’m having to walk home because of you!”

“Um,” Richie called. “Actually, you chose to walk!”

Eddie did look up at that, in order to shoot Richie a horrendously upset face. Sometimes Eddie looked frightening, luckily Richie knew he was just a little baby bear. Or a yippy puppy. Either way; more bark than bite, with an adorable face and cuddly snuggles.

“Just get in!” Richie tried again. “We’re going down to the fucking clubhouse! It’s not any cleaner!”

“Maybe I should just go home,” Eddie stopped, turning his body to start heading the other way. Richie slammed on his breaks and then checked his rearview mirror to make sure nobody was about to rear end him. Luckily, the street was empty.

“No!” Richie yelled in exasperation. “Come on!”

Eddie bit his bottom lip, bounced from foot to foot, before he finally gave a long, low groan.

(That wasn’t at _all_ hot.)

“Fine!”

“Yay!” Richie flung open the door, and Eddie climbed in.

“I’m going to have to plug my nose.” Eddie whined. “How can you stand this?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie said. “I get it. Trashmouth, trashcar, trashperson,”

“Oh shut up,” Eddie shoved his shoulder into Richie’s. “You know that’s not true. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Says the guy who just walked a block to prove a point,”

Eddie’s face grew into one of surprise. “What the fuck?!”

“Am I wrong?” Richie dodged Eddie’s punch, laughing a little at his boyfriend’s antics. “Eddie Confetti, drama Queen extraordinaire!”

“That’s not even fucking true!” Eddie gasped. “You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met!”

“Hah!” Richie gave a fake laugh. “Good one, Eds,”

“You named your _car_ , Richie!”

“Well, Edward Spagedward, what about when you fell down the ladder in the clubhouse and made me hold you in the hammock?!”

“That’s called flirting!” Eddie exploded, a light flush growing on his cheeks.

Richie smirked. And then laughed.

“What about that time, _Richard_ , when you and Bev were fighting about the best action scene in that dumb as fuck movie, and when Ben sided with Bev you threw a tantrum?!”

“Um, _you_ through tantrums, Spaghetti! And I was upset, because you didn’t come to my rescue!”

“Bev was right!”

“You wound me, honey, you wound me.” Richie threw his head back against the seat, miming mock defeat.

X

“Fuckers,” Richie pulled into the driveway, cranking his window down as he approached so as to shout at the three that stood in the Denbrough driveway.

“Hey, Rich,” Mike answered with a smile and a laugh, though Stanley only rolled his eyes. Bill waved, walking up to the car.

“Wh-what’s the emergency?” Bill asked, concern in his eyes. He had to put a hand to his forehead to block out the sunshine as he peered down at where Richie was still sitting in the car.

“I have a hot date with this adorable man tomorrow night,” Richie batted his eyelashes and put on a starstruck smile. (Even if it was for a voice, it was really not far from the truth.) “And so I’ve called in a favor to get _Staci_ ready for the hot date. She’s gotta be on sex machine level,”

“And that involves us, how?” Mike asked not unkindly.

“Because it’s half y’all’s fault,” Richie spoke in his southern mama Voice, pushing open his door and climbing out of the car. “See that McDonald’s wrapper there, that’s yours, Mike.”

“You said it was okay!”

“That was the old me,”

Stan snorted, causing Bill to burst into laughter.

“Hey, fuck off, Stan!” Richie pointed a finger at him. “That’s your Dr. Pepper in the drink holder.”

“Not anymore,” Stan gave him a look. “And I didn’t agree to this. I’m here to keep Bill and Mike company.”

“Oh whatever,” Richie rolled his eyes, leaning back down to grab at an empty Dorito bag.

“That was Bevs,” Stan pointed out unhelpfully. “So,” and then he shrugs.

“Thanks, St-stan,” Bill teased. “It’s g-g-good t-to know whose truh-trash we’re finding.”

“Nobody ever throws trash in Mike’s pickup,” Richie whined.

The three continued to clean, as Stan watched and pointed out things they’d missed. It was a lot of fast food wrappers and chip bags. And also, a ton of gum packages. Richie was bent over in the backseat, rummaging underneath the driver’s seat. So far, he’d found a clump of Stanley’s hair and thirty-four cents.

“Oh fuck no, I can’t do it,” Richie yanked his middle-half out of his car, resting his temple against the side of his car. He clamped his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help it when vomit spewed from his mouth, landing at his feet, some smearing against the back tire.

“ _Goddamn_!”

“Richie, what the fuck?!”

“Sh-shit!”

Richie didn’t move for a moment, willing his body to calm down. But he could still feel the sticky, chewed-up gum in his fingertips, hair and moldy lettuce stuck to it. Just the thought of it caused him to heave a bit more, though not a lot of vomit came out this time.

Everybody had stilled. Richie could feel Bill beside him, about to reach out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Mike was on the other side, and Richie could feel his sympathy. Richie couldn’t see Stan, but he was his only hope at the moment.

“Stan,” Richie said, his voice sounding scratchy after the vomiting. “Do you still have those rubber gloves?”

Mike barked out a laugh, and Bill cussed under his breath.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Stan asked by way of answering, concern in his voice.

“I can’t talk about it,” Richie whined. “I really, fuck,” his stomach rolled again, and so he braced himself but luckily nothing came. “I can’t think about it.”

“What did you find?!” Stan sounded nearly hysterical. “I am never, ever getting back in your car, Richie. I swear, I won’t.”

“I’ve got a tougher stomach, Richie,” Mike spoke up. “Maybe I should get it for you.”

“Mikey, my dear, you’d do that for little ole me?” Richie lilted with a southern belle voice. “You are a fucking angel,” he tried to speak those words in the same accent, but based on the others’ looks, it didn’t work really well.

X

“I don’t want to see that dumb dog movie,” Eddie groaned. “That’s for preschoolers, Rich.”

Riche sped along the road, Eddie beside him. Their hands were clasped between them, resting on the middle console. Eddie had the newspaper in his lap, looking over what was playing at the drive in theater that night.

“Oh come on, it looks super funny, champ.” Eddie fixed him with a look. “Well, it’s all that’s playing tonight. So unless you can magically leave the house Friday night,” Richie gave a shrug.

“I hate you,” Eddie huffed.

“No you don’t,” Richie sang back, smug smirk across his features.

“I hate when you’re right,” Eddie corrected, rolling his eyes.

“What was that, Spaghetti?” Richie put on a face of mock surprise. “Did you say I’m right?”

“Yeah, but I’m already regretting it,”

“Oh but you can’t take it back now, Spagheds,”

“Yeah yeah,”

The drive-in theater was just at the edge of Derry city limits. It had just opened for the season, seeing as it had been snowing just a month ago. The late March evening air was still a bit crisp—Eddie was still wrapped up in a blanket in Richie’s passenger seat—but it wasn’t horribly chilly any longer. It was almost kind of nice. Possibly the perfect night for a drive-in movie.

Richie had been eager to get to a drive-in movie since he’d got his new car. This was the first opportunity he’d had.

Halfway through the movie—just as Richie had hoped—the couple crawled through the middle console and settled into the backseat. Richie had dreamed of this; making out with Eddie in the back of his new car. What he hadn’t expected was just how uncomfortable it would be.

“Get your fucking knee out of my side!” Eddie’s voice was shrill, his hands scraping at Richie’s legs, attempting to tear him away.

Richie pulled his leg away, though his hand that had been propped up against the backseat slipped. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Before he could do anything to stop himself, he lost his balance. His flailing hand smacked Eddie in the cheek, and his whole body came tumbling down onto Eddie, crushing him against the back seat.

Eddie made a high gasping sound, this time out of pain. It was like a pained hiss, his limbs crunching in to protect himself. Though he failed to do so, only smacking Richie in the process.

“Fuck!”

“We don’t fit back here,” Eddie tried to sit up, but it only disrupted Richie again, sending them both falling again. “Fucking hell, Richie,” Eddie groaned.

“Yeah, I know, I’m charming and beautiful, you’re overwhelmed,” Richie swooned.

“Not quite,” Eddie grumbled.

Richie just leaned down to lick a stripe from Eddie’s ear to his chin, sucking at the skin there. Eddie whined, half in annoyance and half in pleasure.

“Lemme give you a hand job,” Richie murmured against the shell of his ear.

“No!” Eddie hissed. “Absolutely not!”

“Nobodies paying us any attention,” Richie spoke quietly, trailing his hands up Eddie’s thigh. He tried to squirm away, but he was still pinned underneath Richie’s lanky body.

“We’re in public, Richie!”

“You don’t have a public sex kink, baby?” Richie murmured.

“Do you?!” Eddie sounded aghast.

“I’ve got an Eddie Spaghetti kink, which means I’m always up for him,” Richie cooed, leaning down to mouth at Eddie’s jawline again.

“Romantic,” Eddie deadpanned. “Take me home, Lover Boy.”

At that, Richie jumped up, kneeing Eddie in the side once again.

“Holy shit, Richie!” Eddie groaned. “Please watch where you’re swinging your fucking long ass limbs!”

“Alright, champ,” Richie fumbled as he tried to get into the driver’s seat once again. “I gotta get my honey boy home!”

**Author's Note:**

> Cheesy ending: Check! I just wasn't sure how to end this beast that was supposed to be 2k and somehow became this mini monster.
> 
> So this week I’ve been sick and on the weirdest damn schedule. But in order to keep up with a new update a week, I’ve written this in a total of like four hours. So, I am hoping it is fun and happy and fluffy and we’ll be back to the long, multi-faceted fics next week.


End file.
